All I Want For Christmas Is You (4 page)

“What else happened? Why are you up here by yourself?” Ileana asked. “You’re young and sexy as hell. You should be out driving some sleek-ass expensive car with four women at your side.”

Casey’s laugh was short. “They love the money and the car until you take your clothes off and the side of your body looks like ground beef.”

“Who was she?”

“My ex-fiancée, Marissa, sat by my side all through the months in the hospital. She nursed me back to health and said the scars didn’t matter.” Casey sighed. “Until I overheard her and a girlfriend talking one day when I came downstairs. She said she couldn’t stand sleeping next to me. She said it made her want to throw up to see my body. Then she said she was with me because she knew the money I made would make up for her having to close her eyes and fake it.”

“Stupid bitch,” Ileana muttered in a fierce tone.

“Thanks for the support, but who would want a man who looked like this under a business suit?” Sarcasm laced his voice. “I use my knowledge, and I build computer games that sell millions. What else can I ask for?”

There was so much more he could ask for, like happiness, affection, and love. But Ileana kept silent. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. Maybe she was sent here for a reason, not just to be a companion for one lonely night but also to help a really great guy regain his life.

“Good night, Casey. Sweet dreams,” she whispered and kissed his neck again.

He pulled her hand up from his chest and rested it under his cheek. The small action told her she was correct. A warm tear fell on her hand, and it pulled at her heart strings. She rephrased her last thought. Casey needed to be loved. She fell asleep with her head against his back and his tears on her hand.

Chapter Four

Casey slipped from the bed and left Ileana sleeping under the thick covers. He went downstairs to use the one thing he knew how to work in the kitchen, the coffeepot. With the aroma of coffee filling the kitchen, he stepped to the big French doors that led outside and looked out into the snow-covered ground and pine trees framing his property. He was beginning to feel something for the woman sleeping upstairs in his bed. It thrilled him, but it scared him even more. He only invited her for the weekend, and here he was liking her company more than he should. He wanted to kiss her until he forgot how to breathe, and sleep with her in a bed just because she was there.

Fighting the urge to just go upstairs and curl up in bed with her. He would spend the rest of the time with her just being friends. He couldn’t take anything more because he had nothing to offer her but a broken man. Casey poured a cup of the hot, dark brew and took a sip. It was Christmas Eve. Casey thought about when he was growing up and the excitement this day would bring. He remembered how his mother and father used to hide just to wrap his presents and how he would try everything in his power to try to catch a peek.
Gifts!
The word screamed into his thoughts. He could not have Christmas with Ileana and not have presents under the tree.

The cold had made his leg stiff, and Casey moved as quickly as he could. He went to the family room, where he took his laptop and cell phone from their resting place, and took them back to the kitchen. He flipped open the net-book and began to type furiously clicking though Internet pages and calling numbers one after the other. The one good thing about being rich—he could have packages delivered to his house from across the world overnight if he needed too. He left instructions for each delivery person to use the service entrance and leave the boxes by the door. Ileana had not seen that part of the house so he knew he could get them and sneak them downstairs easily. A big grin crossed his face, and he felt anticipation of being able to sit and re-create what his parents had done for him as child for someone like Ileana.

“Hey, you. Why didn’t you wake me when you got up?” Ileana’s sleepy voice greeted him from the doorway to the kitchen. “Whatcha up to?”

He quickly closed out Web site after Web site as she walked in and threw her a grin. “Just checking e-mails and doing a little research for a new game I am working on.”

“Is that coffee I smell?”

“Right over there.” Casey pointed to the coffeepot.

As she walked over, he appreciated the curve of her ass in the tiny shorts and noticed that she had rifled through his drawers to find a pair of socks. She was wearing his three-hundred-dollar argyles scrunched up like leg warmers. She poured a cup of coffee and went to the fridge. She went through its contents and pulled out eggs, milk, butter, and something in a black jar.

“What are you making?”

“French toast,” she answered and went over to the cupboards. “Aha, spice rack!” She waggled two containers at him with a big grin. “Nutmeg and cinnamon.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Casey answered, amused.

“Unless you don’t want French toast. Do you want pancakes instead or bacon?” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Ileana, any woman who offers to make me French toast is a saint in my heart.” He clasped his hands over his chest.”

Ileana snorted. “Stop with the charm. I’ll feed you.”

She prepared breakfast in silence for a few minutes until he cleared his throat. “About last
night . . .”

She looked up from the wide pan on the stove at him. “What about last night?”

“You didn’t have to stay with me. I know that it had to be hard.” Ileana lifted an eyebrow, and Casey felt heat run directly through him. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean Casey, and I wasn’t anywhere I didn’t want to be.” She turned the knob on the stove and walked over to him. She kissed him on the nose, then on the lips, where she lingered, and he savored the cinnamon on her lips. “Don’t you forget it?”

“I think I won’t,” Casey murmured.

Ileana went back to the stove and deftly flipped two slices of bread. The kitchen filled with the smell of cinnamon and syrup. Invading the pleasant feelings that the cozy setting gave him, the pain of his injures started to filter though. Casey grimaced in pain. He shifted on the high stool chair that sat in front of the countertop.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Casey hoped the smile on his face convinced her he was okay. “It’s the cold filtering into my bones. After the accident, the cold doesn’t do me too well.”

“Do you need me to crank the heat up?”

“No, if you can hand me those pills in that top cabinet there, I’ll take a few.”

Ileana went over to the cabinet and opened the glass and wood door. He watched her face as she saw the row of pill bottles there.

“Which one? There are like five different ones here.”

“All of them.” Casey didn’t want her to see him hurt, but he had to explain. “I have residual nerve damage in my hip and thigh, so I take them when the pain gets too bad. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, okay,” Ileana said, but Casey heard the concern in her voice and injected brightness into his tone. “I’m fine really now. Where’s that breakfast you promised me?”

“Here it is.” She set a plate with four slices of French toast in front of him.

Casey took a bite and closed his eyes. “You could give Mattie a run for her money with these.”

“I’m glad you like them,” Ileana said brightly.

They ate in companionable silence and enjoyed the snow outside on the ground and the warmth of the kitchen. Casey finished way before she did and sat back. He smiled because his stomach was full and sated, but then he grimaced as pain shot up his leg.

“I officially want to live with you and eat your French toast for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” Casey grinned as she rolled her eyes and took a bite from her plate of French toast.

He got off the stool and put his weight on a leg that could not hold him up. He hadn’t thought his pain had gotten as bad as it had, and he had forgotten about the weakness of his leg when that happened. He remembered all those points when the twinge shot up his leg and it buckled beneath him.

“Casey!” Ileana was out her seat in seconds and on the floor next to him. “Let me help you up.”

“No!” He pushed her away and struggled to get to his feet. The ache hampered his movements, and his effort was in vain.

“Casey, don’t be stubborn. Let me help you,” Ileana said with impatience.

“Leave me alone!” Casey said brokenly. “Please, leave me alone.” He couldn’t look weak in front of her, anyone but her.

“Casey . . . .please.”

“Just go, Ileana. Please, just get out of here. Go watch TV, get a bath. Hell, destroy something. Just get out of this room now before I can never look you in the eye again.”

Casey lay back against the cool tile of the kitchen floor and the only sound that he heard was the swish of the door. He lifted his head and their eyes met before she bowed her head and left the room. He willed his body to work until he could get up and slowly move out of the room. He was grateful that Ileana was nowhere around to see him shuffle across the floor and climb the stairs slowly. He got to his room gratefully and went directly to his bathroom. He filled his whirlpool with water as hot as he could get and turned on the jets as he sank with a painful groan into the bubbling water. He stayed there as long as he could until the ache slowly started to seep from his body. He took more of his pills—he was smart enough to keep a second set upstairs—and climbed into bed. Soon, he slipped into sleep as the medications kicked in. His last thoughts were of Ileana and of the sorrow in her eyes as she walked out of the room.

* * * *

Ileana lay across the cool bed she didn’t sleep in the night before and swiped tears from her eyes.
God, how can I feel or care for someone in such a short amount of time? I’m supposed to be the cool shark, the vixen, and here I am crying over some guy, in one of his beds no less.
She thought she understood. As a man, for her to see him weak was an embarrassment. But how did he expect her to just see him lying there and go on eating French toast like nothing was wrong? Was that what is ex-fiancée was like? Because if she was Ileana vowed to find her and beat her ass just for that alone. He had spent two years alone because his wounds were so deep. Now he didn’t know how to even accept help and not see it as pity.

Ileana looked up at the decorative ceiling and let dozens of thoughts swirl through her mind. Until one settled, until one made her smile, and until one seemed just absolutely right. She peeked into his room and, seeing him asleep on his bed, closed the door with a gentle click. This would give her time to prepare. She bounded around the bedroom quickly and began throwing things out of drawers looking for the perfect outfit. She found exactly what she was looking for. A low-cut silk chemise with little bows down the side. The lingerie still had the tags on, and Ileana made a mental note to ask him why he had so many women’s clothes lying around. She ran into the bathroom and began to prepare. What Casey needed was a little romance, and she was about to blow his mind.

After a hot bath, she sat on the bed and flicked on the flat-screen TV, but nothing kept her attention for too long. She kept looking at the clock and willing him to wake so she could go in there and show him exactly what kind of man she thought he was. Finally, when the clock said four and the sun had begun to set, she walked to his room and knocked lightly on the door. Casey answered it while drying his hair with a towel and wearing loose sleep pants and a T-shirt.

“I was trying to make myself decent before I tried to find you,” he said. “I thought you left.”

“Why would I leave?” Ileana didn’t wait for him to invite her. She stepped into the room.

“What are you wearing?” His voice was husky.

“Why did you think I would leave?” she countered.

He made a frustrated sound. “Damn it, because of me being in the floor like a freaking invalid! Because I yelled at you!”

Ileana stepped closer. “You know what I saw? I saw a man in pain too proud to ask for help and too afraid that everything is pity.” She rested her hands on his chest and looked into his eyes hoping he could see the truth in her words. “I see a man who’s been hurting too long and I want to be closer to.”

“You can’t get much closer than this,” he murmured. “Um, Ileana, I have to ask again, what are you wearing?”

“Something I hoped would please you, Casey.”

“It’s very pleasing but you don’t have to do this, not because of today not because of anything you think you owe me.”

Ileana stood on her toes and kissed his cheek before nibbling gently on his chin and kissing him on the lips. “I want to love you, Casey, to show you that your kisses blew my mind and that all I have thought about is your hands on my body since that time.”

He groaned, and she felt his cock throb in response when she pressed closer to him. He gripped her hips before trailing his hands around her back and cupping her ass to bring her closer still.

“Ileana, if you don’t want this, please walk out that door now, because there’ll be no stopping me in a few seconds.”

“I don’t want you to stop. I want you to take me, fill me, and make me beg for your touch.”

His groan of surrender shuddered through him before he captured her lips fiercely and consumed her with a fiery kiss. Ileana clung to him as their lips devoured each other. The passion between them broke free and went from simmering to hot in seconds. His hands roamed her body from her breasts to her legs, touching, caressing, and molding her to him. Ileana gasped when he cupped her breasts again and played with her nipples through the sheer material of the chemise. The tug of arousal at the center of her core made her pussy wet and fueled her desire. She wanted to show him more. This just wasn’t about sex. It was about treasuring a man who needed to be shown he was cherished.